


Happier Wirings

by CrazyBatLady



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 14:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyBatLady/pseuds/CrazyBatLady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was no surprise that Rabbit took Peter A. Walter I's death the hardest</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happier Wirings

Being a robot had its advantages, in that when you were hurt you could be restored basically to what you were before without all the hassle of cells growing and meshing together. What may takes months to heal for a living being could be fixed in a few days or weeks with the right tools and knowledge.

It was the wounds one received mentally that couldn’t be so easily repaired. Wounds like the loss of a father figure.

They had all experienced death in the wars, even the deaths of people they had grown close to, but none of these deaths could measure up to Colonel Walter’s. Each of them dealt with it in different ways. The Jon had been melancholy for a while, but content in the fact that his creator was “in a better place”. The Spine was probably the least responsive: he had had respect for Colonel Walter, even grown to see him as a father in some respects, but saw his death as simply another step in life, another emotional obstacle to overcome.

Rabbit’s reaction had been somewhat more extreme.

Not in that he screamed and cried and banged fists against walls. He seemed to become hollow: spending hours in solitude, away from any human or otherwise living thing. He would refuse water and basic check-ups, causing joints to seize up and leaving him unable to move or speak for day. Not that he did a lot of that either.

He only sought the company of the dead, it seemed, making frequent trips to where Colonel Walter’s grave stood. They didn’t know what he did there, but they guessed he wanted to do it alone. The Jon and the Spine would often watch him make the journey from a high window, long-since resigned to Rabbit’s changed outlook on his own existence.

“Do you think we’re gonna get him back any time soon?” The Jon asked one time, elbows resting on the window frame.

“One can hope,” was The Spine’s only response.

It had been around three months since the death of their creator. Rabbit was as hollow as ever. Storm clouds drew up and swelled in the distance, dark as soot and grime, with the obvious threat of rain. The Spine watched Rabbit make his journey as normal, and decided that he needed to do something.

Dress shoes started squelching on the dirt path as Rabbit made his way, the rain beginning to come down in heavy drops. It washed down Rabbit’s faceplates and soaked through his shirt. If he had nerves, he would have shivered. He looked up at the grey tempest above him, letting out a cloud of steam in a half-hearted manner. He eventually found what he had made the journey for: a black slab of marble, engraved with the name of the one who had given him life. Rabbit sat and took his place, despite the ground churning up into mud. He didn’t like these pants that much, anyway. He crossed his legs and placed his arms in his lap. And sat there. Speaking wasn’t needed.

The rain soaked him as he sat, staring at the slab. After some time, Rabbit became aware that he was no longer getting wet. He looked up to see an umbrella suspended above him, held up by a tall silver automaton, green eyes shining through the murk. Rabbit looked down again.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk.” Rabbit acknowledged this with a steam cloud. Silence followed, and it was The Spine that broke it.

“You’re not my brother, you know. Colonel Walter wasn’t my father either. That doesn’t mean I didn’t lose someone when we were away at war. I know you were somewhat more attached to Colonel Walter, but don’t think that makes you unique.”

A croak could be heard from near the ground, from rubber lips unused for a long time

“He made me. He m-made us. I…loved him.”

“You’re an automaton. Genuine love doesn’t happen with us.”

“Maybe not with you.”

The words stung, but The Spine held his ground.

“You can’t keep doing this, Rabbit. You’re going to seize up one day. Just stop working. Walter wouldn’t have wanted that.”

“That doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

“It’s not what the rest of us want, either.”

Rabbit looked up, photo-receptors a little brighter than normal. The Spine continued.

“Even if you’re not my brother, you are still my friend. The same with The Jon, and Hatchworth even if he isn’t here right now. There are people who still need you here.”

Rabbit stood up, not bothering to brush the mud off his clothes. The two of them stood under the umbrella for a moment. Rabbit’s faceplates shifted into a grin, the first real one in months.

“You’re right, you know. About you needing me. Who else is going melt that cool demeanour of yours?”

The Spine’s expression changed, except maybe for the closest robot equivalent of his mouth twitching at a smile.

“Let’s get you dried off.”


End file.
